Not Mine
by Lt.Gungirl
Summary: "I didn't want it, I didn't ask for it. This power was forced upon me, it doesn't belong to me. It belongs to the world." Our favorite Cyborgs and their personal vows to use their strengths to make the world a better place.
1. 001

**This is a series of drabbles, more of my thoughts on the 00 cyborgs and their vows to use their powers for Good. Wrote these in numerical order, will post them that way. The idea is that what Black Ghost gave each of them (ability to fly, enhanced sight/hearing, super speed etc) is not their's. **

My brain was my father's greatest creation, a notch in his belt of accomplishments. It was never meant to belong to me, but he gave it to me before I knew what I was like before he granted me the vast knowledge. And at this time he chose to hand me over to a monster that hides in the minds of men like himself. My mind was not to be mine, but I have stolen it, for I know no other life. My memory before such a weighty tool was thrust into my hands was not built on developed foundations and I am afraid I can not recall my human life. So I will accept what I have become knowing naught but the life I live with my fellow misfits. And this mind shall be mine, and I shall use it against evil, and then I shall use it to better my planet, my home I call Earth.


	2. 002

They aren't mine. These legs don't belong to me. I wasn't born with them, I didn't ask for them, they weren't a gift. They're a curse. A curse as heavy as concrete shoes. I was thrown from the bridge into the murky waters of this hellish afterlife. Am I alive? I don't bleed anymore, it's not blood that courses through these artificial veins. Am I dead? If so why does my soul long for true peace? Is this a punishment? Is it a trial? What happened to the flesh and bone that I broke and damaged as a child? Was it just thrown away? Unnecessary parts just discarded on the street?

My feet aren't mine, they belong to a mask, to a vision, to the author of my suffering. I've stolen them, only to wonder why I keep going on with these filched limbs. But if I left them behind I'd have nothing to stand on. How can a necessity cause so much anguish?

Sometimes I dream of my legs, the ones I knew so well. With scars on the knees, and hair growing out of the follicles. I had real toenails once, and a scar on my ankle from breaking it when I jumped off a balcony. Those are memories of a human life. The badges of a balanced existence, king of the animals, but still fragile enough to bleed from biting my own tongue. Now I can't even do that. I have no honor scars anymore, I have an eternity of existence and no hope for my future.

No these legs were not my desire, but they're mine now. I have to make due with what I have, no matter how heavy they weigh on my soul. Perhaps I can turn my curse into a blessing. Use this weight to protect my home, give these legs to the innocent and weak. But I'm still not sure so I'll just have to wait and see.


	3. 003

I hate them, these eyes and these ears. They were mine once, they used to be weak, but that's what made them so great. I miss the days when I had to imagine what was happening down the hall, when I couldn't hear exactly what was going on. I hate what these eyes show me, things I can't bear to look at. So much ability and strength, and I hate it. I hear it all. My comrade taking a shower upstairs, the baby's sleeping breaths, the man who guides us smashing his thumb with a hammer in his study. There's nothing that happens in this house I can't hear. Every mechanical heartbeat, every mumbled curse, every breath and sigh. It's always so loud, I wish I could turn it all off like a radio.

I miss my ears, the ones that were soft cartilage and barely able to pick up noises like a heartbeat. It's stifling, the things I hear. I miss my eyes, they're still green, but they search, they search and search always looking for hidden dangers, for an enemy spy. All I see are my flaws, in the mirror I see them, I'm not beautiful just pretty. I'm not human, that's why he won't look at me the way I want him to. I can see it in his eyes, how I wish I were blind, so I couldn't see that look. The look of regret, regret for himself and regret for me.

If I were blind I could at least be free of the regret, or the look of apology that Gilmore always gives me when we're in a fight. I don't want his apology, I want to trade in these eyes and ears, get my old ones back. But I have no choice, I never did. So I'll continue to try to help my friends do what is right because these eyes and ears are theirs. I'll let them use them until I can look outside and not fear the sight of some threat approaching.


	4. 004

They're cold and hard and so clumsy. These things that hang at the ends of my arms. A gift some called it, a burden to the one who carries it. How I loath the one responsible for this. It's not about saving the world, I'm too cold to feel anything as compassionate and selfless as that. It's about revenge. I should have died, and I would have been glad to, at least then I would still be with her. They'll pay, for taking my arms, my legs, and my death away. They threw mine out, obviously they were insufficient tools for my life. By now they have rotted to nothingness, gone forever. They were calloused from years of hard work with the nails trimmed short. They used to burn with freezing in the snow, and sweat with the heat of summer. But those are lost things, a part of a past I am forgetting.

These hands do not belong to me. They are not hands designed for loving, caring, or helping. They're weapons, deadly accurate killing machines. I use them, but I do not like them. Once I could feel the things beneath my fingers, knew what it was to touch soft skin, silky hair, now all I feel is a sensation that I even have hands. Metal fingers, five are machine gun barrels the others are darts. Two hands, one is full of bullets, the other hides a fatal blade.

These hands are cold and hard, but I don't have to use them the way they were meant to be used. They'll be weapons I use for the world. They don't have to belong to the monster who made them, I can make them mine, I can use them to destroy the one who built them.


	5. 005

This body, does it actually belong to me? I call it my own, but it is not how I remember it. There's a strength in my muscles that verges on the ridiculous. I can move the earth I respect without hesitation. The rocks are weightless as feathers to me. I can overturn a tank. But what good does that do me? To create more chaos in this unbalanced world. I want to bring peace, I want to bring happiness, but if the people I save are running from me how am I helping them? Can my power be used for good? Obviously destiny has granted me this to use against the evil that resides on this planet. My strength isn't mine, it's the world's, I will give it freely to the people I promise to protect.


	6. 006

I used to breath fire at parties, at my first restaurant. Back then they were my flames, but now, now that it is part of my body, I don't like showing off. Black Ghost's handiwork is not something to be proud of, more like something to be ashamed of. It's their fire, but I think for now I can borrow it, so that I can help defeat them. Then their fire shall be mine. And I shall use it for the people of this planet, only then can it be mine and will I be worthy to wield such a power.


	7. 007

My face isn't always the face I own. It changes as I will it to change, but this power is not of my choice. It was of an evil spirit's design. Though I use this evil gift it is but a weapon I have taken against the evil soul. The task before me is grand, the outcome unclear, and my conscience clear in it's goal. I shall strive for my country, and my planet to save them from the black spirit that causes trouble upon this Earth. For I shall not tarry in my duties as a man who has transcended humanity to become a vessel for good to fight back in. I have given my face to the world, for it is more powerful than any sword or gun, and it shall have but one task. To stop the spirit of pain and suffering that plagues this planet.


	8. 008

The water is my home, or at least it is these days. My lungs are not exactly mine. They were manufactured in a laboratory, they replaced the lungs I once felt heave and strain as I fought for my people. Now they don't stress under any pressure, I can spend hours in the water like a fish. These lungs are not mine you see, they belong to my people, the people of Mwamba. For with these lungs I shall take up a fight to save the world, to save not only Africa, but every country. And when that is done I will use them to better my country, my people, and to prove that I am the owner of my body however modified it may be. Because then I will use it for the opposite of it's original purpose, after I have destroyed the force on this Earth known as Black Ghost.


	9. 009

My speed is my greatest asset these days. And I can't really claim it as my own, as a part of myself that I was destined to have. It was forced into me, through surgery and pain, and the removal of something that I have always cherished. My humanity, my weakness to bullets and to little oxygen, these are things I took for granted as a child, and now I wish I had them. They were stolen from me, and I was made into a perfect soldier, a weapon beyond anything the world had yet to see. My speed, my accelerator, that's what I say, but I didn't want it, didn't ask for it, didn't create it. It's something I use, but I don't understand it. I can't tell you how it works, or how it was put into me. I just know that I can use it for whatever time I have left to betray the evil which invented it.

It should belong to them, but just as they stole from me so I became a thief to protect myself, and the world, and my comrades. I'm not alone thankfully, we each have something that isn't technically ours. And together we use these things to prevent such tragedy from happening to future generations. We give these strengths to the universe. I will one day own this speed, for when the last of Black Ghost is gone there will be no one to claim it, no one to say I am their failed experiment. Only then can I be free and look to my future, until then it is not my future, it is the future of this entire populace. And someday I can say that it was my efforts that saved this Earth. When that day comes we'll all be free, and then we can own ourselves again, own our strengths and our weaknesses, and own our destinies.


End file.
